


with my sweetheart i lay down

by thingbe



Series: where i will be found [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingbe/pseuds/thingbe
Summary: Going back to Iowa is always hard on Jim.





	with my sweetheart i lay down

**Author's Note:**

> The usual thanks go to kinneys and rainbowcasoup for their continued help and support. Also, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who's commented or kudos'd any of my other fics, especially the other in this series - I don't reply to comments because I'm weird about keeping the number 'honest', but I read and adore every single one. ♥
> 
> I've taken the title from 'Someday' by Passenger again, and the title of the series as well. This fic is listed as first because it takes place before the other one-shot, 'with my darling close to me'.

 

Going back to Iowa is always hard on Jim.

It’s a weight that drags him down, at first slowly; it starts the week before they leave, manifesting as a restlessness that Leonard can see in the darkening skin under his eyes, not at all helped by the way his schedule is packed to the seams the way it gets every time they’re docked at Earth. Leonard tries to help but there’s only so much he can do, only so far Jim will relax even with Leonard’s arms around him at night, and sometimes it’s just not enough.

The day they’re scheduled to leave is always like hitting the upward turn on an exponential curve – all of the restlessness and stress of the past week double up and hit Jim all at once and Leonard is more or less helpless to watch as Jim fiddles with their bags for the thousandth time, or flicks between games on a PADD, or paces around their apartment and then the shuttle bay. Shuttling between Riverside and San Francisco never fails to remind Leonard of that first ride together, sharing their misery on the most uncomfortable craft Leonard has ever personally been on, so long ago now that it feels like another lifetime.

He knows Jim’s thinking the same thing by the way he looks over at Leonard, attempting a strained half-smile. It may be the first time Jim’s looked him in the eye all day and what he sees there is so much like what he saw that day that it stings, something tightening in his heart. The difference is, though, that these days, he offers Jim his hand, not a flask – and when Jim takes it, his edges soften, and Leonard knows that for all Jim feels like he’s going backwards, he’s gone nowhere but forward since the day they met.

 

* * *

 

Leonard always lets Jim drive from the shuttle bay. It’s the practical choice, sure, since Jim knows the way, but it’s deliberate, too – he knows that driving gives Jim a sort of control, and that that’s something he needs when his emotions are running so high. Leonard doesn’t bother trying to make conversation on the drive, the same as he didn’t on the shuttle; if Jim wanted to talk, he’d talk, and pushing the issue isn’t going to do him any good.

Besides, he’s too busy wrestling himself into the coat he brought; no matter how much Jim makes fun of him for it, he absolutely  _ does _ need it, thank you, the thick wool providing a hint of the warmth he desperately misses. Iowa isn’t exactly his favourite place to be in November, but he tries to keep the complaining to a minimum, at least until there’s snow on the ground. Jim has a hard enough time without Leonard’s whining – there’s no sense in making it harder.

When he’s finally bundled up to his own satisfaction, settling back in with a huff, he notices Jim looking at him out of the corner of his eye with what he’s going to be generous and call the start of a smile playing at his lips. Leonard rolls his eyes and settles further into his seat.

“I wouldn’t need it if the temperature was actually reasonable,” he mumbles, and he’s glad to see amusement in Jim’s expression, even if it’s at his own expense. Leonard reaches across the centre console and takes Jim’s right hand off the wheel, tangling their fingers. Neither of them say anything, but then neither of them really have to; an entire conversation plays out in the silence between them, Jim conveying  _ what happened to safety, Bones?  _ with a sideways glance, Leonard squeezing his hand as though to say  _ these things drive themselves, darlin’, I’m not compromising anything by holding your hand _ . What he’s saying by bringing Jim’s knuckles to his lips to kiss is sweeter, deeper than words, but Leonard knows Jim understands.

Leonard quickly falls into something of a trance looking out the passenger window, watching cornfields and cornfields and cornfields blur past, occasionally interrupted by trees or houses. The landscape never promises to be anything more than this, so the monotony isn’t a disappointment. It’s expected, and Leonard can live with that. He’s always found something peaceful in the unassuming plainness of the countryside; it’s almost meditative, if he’ll allow the use of the word.

He’s still trying to decide if the word reminds him too much of Spock to use when Jim separates their hands, bringing Leonard back out of his head. They’ve reached the driveway that’ll take them up to the house, and Jim still doesn’t need two hands on the wheel but his grip is tight and that same tension radiates from his every muscle. Leonard misses the physical connection but doesn’t say anything, quietly looking out the front windshield as Jim takes them up the driveway and parks.

Ideally, he’d like to let Jim decide when to get out of the car on his own time, but Leonard can already see Winona coming out to greet them, pulling on a sweater as she walks out the front door onto the porch. Jim sighs quietly as he turns the car off; Leonard offers a small smile when he glances over, and Jim pats his shoulder absently before getting out to greet his mom.

By the time Leonard gets out himself and rounds the car, they’re still hugging hello. Jim relaxes in Winona’s arms; Leonard knows that despite his mixed feelings about coming here, Jim’s been looking forward to seeing her. They separate a moment later and Winona turns to Leonard, opening her arms for him. He’s always surprised by her height – the fact that they usually speak over vidcall makes it easy to forget – and has to bend down slightly to hug her.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says, giving him one final squeeze before letting him go, giving him an appraising look. “How was the shuttle ride?” she asks knowingly, a teasing glint in her eyes that’s so _Jim_ he's almost taken aback. As much as Jim looks like his dad, he looks a hell of a lot like his mom, too, especially in their mannerisms.

“It was alright, as far as shuttle rides go,” he says, then gestures with his thumb over his shoulder to Jim, who’s busy getting their bags out of the trunk. “I’m lucky I’ve got a strapping young starship captain to keep me sane.”

“To hold you when you swoon, you mean,” Jim says, reappearing at his side. Winona laughs and Leonard has to try hard to suppress his own smile and act offended.

“Now that’s just untrue,” he says, and when Jim turns to him the small smile on his face melts all of Leonard’s objections, real or not.

“C’mon, you two, let’s get inside, I’ve just put some coffee on,” Winona says. “Do you need any help with your bags?”

“No, I think we’ve got it,” Jim says, handing Leonard his bags and bringing the strap of his own duffel over his shoulder. Winona nods.

“Alright then, you know the way – I’ll be in the kitchen.” She leads them to the door, holding it open for them as they shuffle through, then head up the stairs.

Jim’s old room is around the corner from the top of the stairs and at the end of the hall. Any traces of a good mood leave him as they cross the threshold – aside from the somewhat-new double bed that’s been cramped into the corner, the room is like something of a time capsule, Jim’s things sitting in their same places on his shelves as they did in his childhood.

Leonard puts his bags down at the foot of the bed, squirming out of his coat to lay it on top, and turns to Jim, gently taking his bags and leaving them with the rest before stepping close, bringing his right hand to rest against Jim’s cheek.

“You okay?” he murmurs, and when Jim stops looking around the room and makes eye contact he looks more tired than he has in weeks. He sighs and leans into the touch for a moment, then closes the last few inches between them to wrap his arms around Leonard, resting his face in his neck. Jim’s nose is cold against his skin but his arms and chest are warm, and he sighs again when Leonard brings his own arms around him and starts lightly running his fingers up and down Jim’s spine.

“I’m... jumbled,” he says, and Leonard can’t help but smile as he presses a kiss into Jim’s hair.

“That’s alright, darlin’, I can be solid enough for the both of us.”

Jim’s hands clench in the back of his sweater, his arms tightening just barely, and Leonard takes it for what it is: a silent  _ thank you _ , because just as there are times where they don’t need words, there are others where Jim doesn’t have them, and Leonard knows he means it just as much as if he’d said it out loud.

 

* * *

 

The first night, Leonard’s barely climbed under the covers when Jim presses up against him, kissing him hard and whispering  _ need to feel you _ , sliding his hand down the front of Leonard’s pants and squeezing, caressing until Leonard reciprocates, pushing his own pleasure to the back of his mind so he can focus on drawing gasps and whines from Jim’s lips.

The sounds Jim tries his best to muffle as he comes are what push Leonard over his own edge, gasping into Jim’s ear. He shoves his pants off and uses them to clean them both as best he can before tossing them to the floor, pulling Jim close as he settles – and as he falls asleep with Jim tangled up in his arms, he hopes he’s brought him peace, even if only for the night.

 

* * *

Leonard wakes up the next morning a little disoriented, knowing he’s in an unfamiliar bed, and it takes his brain a minute to wake up enough to remember where he is. There’s fingers slowly petting through his hair over and over, and the temptation to go back to sleep is overwhelming; he almost falls to it, but he wants to enjoy this while it lasts. He grunts to signal that he’s awake, and Jim laughs quietly.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Jim says, and to Leonard’s relief he keeps combing his fingers through his hair. “We’re getting breakfast going soon.”

Leonard grunts again, and reaches out to grab Jim’s thigh, disappointed to feel denim under his fingers. “Stay,” he mumbles, not necessarily  _ afraid _ that Jim will leave, but knowing that he will, eventually, and he isn’t yet prepared for that.

Jim doesn’t say anything, just leans down and kisses Leonard’s forehead, but he keeps moving his fingers, and Leonard finds himself slowly melting underneath them. Time blurs as he gets closer and closer to falling asleep, but it can’t have been very long when Jim sighs, pulling his hand away and kissing Leonard’s forehead again.

“I should go help my mom. You should probably shower,” Jim says. Leonard finally opens his eyes, and all he can think is that he wants the first thing he sees every day to be Jim’s smile, just like this.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep. Jim pats his hip through the covers, once, before heading out of the room, closing the door as he does.

Leonard makes short work of his shower, staying in it just long enough to get the smell of the shuttle out of his hair and the itchy remainder of last night’s come off his stomach. He dresses in jeans and an old, comfortable sweatshirt and follows the smell of bacon downstairs and into the kitchen.

When he steps around the corner, he smiles at the sight of Jim and Winona bustling around the stove and counters together. “Anything I can do?” he asks. Winona turns and smiles at him.

“Morning, Leonard,” she says. “We're mostly finished here, you can set the table if you want to.”

“Yes ma'am,” he says, laughing to himself when Winona pointedly rolls her eyes. He makes his way to the cupboard to grab the plates, kissing Jim on the cheek as he passes.

By the time he has the table ready, Jim and Winona have started loading the food onto the trivets he set out, and it isn't five minutes before they're all sitting down. He takes his seat beside Jim and they tuck in without any fanfare. Leonard more or less guzzles his first mug of coffee, finishing it before he touches his food. Feeling slightly more human for it, he loads up his plate with eggs and toast, stealing a piece of bacon from Jim's with a look that says  _ you have more than enough  _ when Jim tries to snatch it back.

Breakfast is mostly silent, save for the clatter of silverware on plates and the usual morning small talk,  _ how did you sleep  _ and  _ pass the salt, please _ . There's a small, quiet moment after they've all finished, where they each sit back with their coffees, letting their food digest a little before getting going on the dishes. Leonard's the one to break the silence, manners overriding his preference for drinking his coffee quietly.

“Thank you for breakfast, Winona, it was delicious,” he says, briefly thinking of his own mother, patiently going  _ what do we say, Leo?  _ whenever he forgot a thank-you.

“You're very welcome, Leonard,” she says, a teasing slant to her smile that's all too familiar. She's always gotten a kick out of what both she and Jim call his Southern gentleman routine, the ‘ma'am’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s that were hammered into him from birth bringing her and Jim endless amusement over the years.

“Did the two of you have any plans for while you're here?” Winona spins her mug in her hands as she speaks, a canyon scene printed on the side stretching end-to-end again and again.

“Not really,” Jim says. “Why?”

She sighs, setting her mug down and lacing her fingers together. “I got a comm from Captain Hastings this morning. It looks like one of the cadets we had doing a work study term mislabelled some of the samples we took, and normally it could wait but they're up for processing and I'm in the middle of a paper that I'd been hoping to finish before we go back out...” She pauses for a moment and looks to Jim. “Would you mind if I went back to San Francisco for a few days to take care of it? Two or three at the most, it's all just data input but I don't trust anyone else to remember everything.”

Jim's answering smile is a little strained, and Leonard fights the urge to take his hand. “Yeah, Mom, of course.”

“Thanks, honey.” Winona smiles sadly and stands, rounding the table to pull Jim into half of a hug and kissing the top of his head. “I'll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, returning the awkward hug with one arm. Winona gives him a final squeeze before letting go.

“Are you boys okay to take care of the dishes? I should get packing; the sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back.”

“Absolutely,” Leonard says. Winona gives him his own hug and heads out of the kitchen towards the front of the house. A moment later, he can hear her heading up the stairs, some of the steps creaking with age.

Leonard turns to Jim – he's staring intently down at his mug, looking both lost in thought and a little bit just lost, his thumb tracing the odd looping pattern on the ceramic. He knows that Jim hates being alone here, and he thinks maybe that's what this is that's pulling at the corners of his mouth and digging tension around his eyes. Leonard reaches out and gently takes one of Jim's hands in his own, stroking back and forth with his thumb; a silent  _ you aren't _ , a reminder that his loneliness doesn't have to be all-encompassing, the way it wants to be. Jim meets his eyes briefly and gives him a small, tense smile, squeezing his hand before letting go to push his chair out.

“C'mon, we'd better get started on these,” he says, and Leonard silently follows.

Winona leaves shortly after the last of the dishes is dried and put back in its place, and Jim disappears soon after that – he doesn’t warn Leonard, tell him where he’s going or what he’s doing, and Leonard knows to take it as Jim’s way of telling him he needs some space. At this point, he’s familiar enough with the variations in Jim’s mood here to know how he signals what he needs; it isn’t always easy, especially times like this when all Leonard wants to do is wrap him in his arms and say  _ you’re okay, you’re strong, I’m here _ , but he knows that eventually Jim will come back around to needing that comfort, and all he can do is wait.

Leonard sits on the couch reading medical journals until lunch, then fixes himself a sandwich and switches to the novel he’s been working through. Jim recommended it to him, and Leonard can see why. He sees Jim in the details of it, in the earnestness of its optimism, in the way it finds beauty in the mundane. He reaches a line Jim read out to him one time when they were reading together in bed, and touches his finger to it, as though touching the words will bring a sharper clarity to the memory. Jim smiled as he read it out, and smiled when Leonard kissed him after, and smiled still as he looked into Leonard’s eyes; making sure he understood everything Jim wasn’t saying, maybe, or maybe just memorizing the moment like Leonard had been.

The next time Leonard looks up, hours have passed, and the sun has all but disappeared over the horizon. There’s still no sign of Jim, and Leonard’s a little concerned – usually, he’d have checked in at least once by this point, and Leonard figures there’s no harm in seeking him out to let him know that he’s planning on getting started on dinner soon.

He searches the house room by room first, and when he confirms that Jim’s nowhere inside, the house starts to feel almost achingly empty. Leonard slips on his shoes and jacket before heading out the back door in the kitchen. He’d been intending on checking the barn first, but there’s a light on in the small detached garage across the driveway, so he heads on over.

The first thing he sees when he steps inside is Jim, and he can’t help how that alone makes his heart warm in his chest. The second thing he sees is the piles of boxes and machinery Jim’s surrounded by, standing in front of a workbench like the epicentre of a storm, holding a piece of metal Leonard can only assume is supposed to actually look the way it does, twisted and turning on itself.

He carefully picks his way over, wanting to be close to Jim, despite how he reminds himself that Jim might need the distance. Jim doesn’t acknowledge his presence until Leonard’s right beside him, and even then it’s with only a flat smile and a sideways glance.

“What’re you doing, ‘sides catching a cold?” Leonard asks, pointedly looking at Jim’s wool sweater, which can’t be enough to keep him warm when Leonard’s almost shivering in his coat.

Jim sighs, and Leonard itches to reach out to him, to smooth the lines from his face and pull the aches from his heart. Jim finally turns to look at him after a moment, and the exhaustion in his expression tugs at Leonard, too strongly for him to resist, and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s reaching out to rest his hand on Jim’s cheek. It makes Jim smile – just slightly, but it’s warm enough that Leonard knows he hasn’t misstepped. Jim presses into Leonard’s hand lightly before turning away again, and Leonard feels confident enough to wrap his arm around Jim’s waist, his confidence bolstered when Jim leans against him.

“I’ve been sorting through some of the junk in here, some of these old parts were- were my dad’s and they’re no good anymore,” Jim says after a moment. As he speaks, his expression settles not fully into grief or melancholy, but into enough of both that Leonard can’t help but feel suddenly, even fiercely protective.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out with his free hand to touch Jim’s chin. He waits until Jim’s looking him in the eye again to pull him forward, meeting halfway to softly kiss him.

Jim sighs unsteadily at first, then turns to face Leonard more, and for a while he seems content to let Leonard kiss him – brushing their lips together, alternating with pressing longer and deeper. He lets himself be consumed with kissing Jim, falling into it so easily as the rest of the world disappears. He knows it won’t last forever; he knows there’s only so much softness Jim can handle right now, so Leonard savours every moment while he can.

A few minutes pass, and sure enough, Jim tosses the twisted piece of metal to the workbench and curls his fingers in Leonard’s coat, pulling him closer as he deepens and hardens the kiss. Jim uses his grip to turn them, putting his back to the workbench and pulling Leonard right up against himself. Leonard has to steady himself with a hand on the workbench and a hand on Jim’s hip, the textures of rough wood and denim barely having time to register before he notices Jim’s erection pressing against his pelvis.

“Please, Bones, I need...” Jim whispers into Leonard’s mouth, apparently unwilling to break the kiss. Leonard shudders and moves his hand from the workbench to grab Jim’s other hip, pulling Jim to grind slowly against him. Jim groans and his hips continue the movement, rolling forward in small, halting circles, his breath picking up in the scant space between their mouths.

Jim’s hands fly to the zipper of Leonard’s coat, struggling for a moment to grasp the pull as Leonard keeps rocking their hips together. When he finally gets it, he yanks it most of the way down, worming his hands inside to grip Leonard’s shoulders. His grip tightens as Leonard starts to work on their belts, moving as fast as he can to get them open and out of the way, kissing his way up Jim’s jaw.

“Tell me, darlin’,” he murmurs into Jim’s ear, kissing the lobe when Jim shudders. “Tell me what you need.” Leonard dips his head to nip at Jim’s neck, and Jim makes a choked noise between a moan and a whine, his fingers digging bruises into Leonard’s shoulders.

“Just-  _ you _ ,” Jim says. Leonard makes short work of his fly and slides his hand down into Jim’s boxers to finally wrap around his dick, Jim moaning quietly as he does. Jim presses his face into Leonard’s neck as he works his cock, making small, breathy moans into his skin as Leonard’s hand moves slowly, friction dragging between them.

“C'mon, need this,” Jim mumbles, reaching for his fly. Leonard kisses his hair and withdraws his hand, gently moving Jim’s away.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” he murmurs, quickly undoing his pants and lowering them just enough to free himself, doing the same for Jim. He licks his palm quickly and wraps his hand around both of them; Jim does the same and Leonard moans, kissing the shell of Jim’s ear and closing his eyes.

Leonard drags it out as much as he can with Jim bucking his hips and making desperate sounds against his neck. It’s a battle he’s slowly losing, yielding ground every time Jim gasps when Leonard’s thumb swipes over the head of his cock, every second Jim spends idly sucking at his neck. He gives up the moment he opens his eyes and looks down – he almost comes at the sight, their hands and cocks all moving together, precome slicking their movements and stringing between them, connecting them in a way that’s so intimate it makes his head spin.

He moans Jim’s name and can’t help but speed his hand, Jim following suit. Before long Jim’s breathing in short gasps into Leonard’s neck, and he knows Jim’s close; he ducks his head to kiss Jim’s neck, barely holding back his own moans as he whispers  _ just like that  _ and  _ know you need this _ and  _ c’mon, baby, let me see _ .

Jim comes over both their hands with a strangled moan, and that sight alone is all Leonard needs to follow after him, whispering Jim’s name as he rides the rise and fall. Jim takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Leonard nudges at him until he lifts his face enough that they can kiss – it’s messy, it’s uncoordinated and off-centre, but it’s perfect, a way Leonard can say  _ I’m right here _ and Jim can say  _ I know _ .

It doesn’t last long enough, ending because Jim pulls away, pulling out of his space as much as he’s able and withdrawing into himself, somewhere deep where he doesn’t want Leonard to follow. Leonard wipes his hand on his jeans, uses the hem of his shirt to get whatever else he can before tucking them both back into their pants, leaving Jim alone in the garage with a kiss on the cheek and  _ dinner’ll be ready in a couple hours _ .

He strips and stuffs his clothing in the wash the second he gets inside; as he heads upstairs for a change of clothes he’s briefly glad Winona’s gone, but more powerful than that is how his heart hurts for Jim, feeling lost and alone in a house that feels empty without her, echoing with absences long past.

 

* * *

The second night, Leonard lays Jim down, kissing him as softly as he thinks Jim can bear – again and again and again, until Jim’s hands are clutching bruises into his shoulders and he’s pulling Leonard down hard against himself, biting his bottom lip and whispering  _ fuck me _ , a plea and a command all at once.

He opens Jim up as slowly as Jim lets him – when he’s finally ready and Leonard pulls his fingers out, Jim twists onto his hands and knees underneath him, twisting something in Leonard’s heart as he does. He slides into Jim slowly, easily, Jim begging for more with his body, his voice, arching his back and whispering  _ more, more, more _ until Leonard is helpless to give it, sending Jim rocking forward with a moan on every hard thrust.

They finish almost in tandem, Leonard pressing his forehead into Jim’s shoulder and wishing he could see his face as he comes. Jim pulls one of Leonard’s arms around himself when Leonard pulls out, and carefully manoeuvres them until they’re laying on their sides; the  _ please stay _ is silent in the gesture, and though Leonard knows waking up will be uncomfortable if he doesn’t clean them off, it feels trivial against Jim’s request – so he kisses the back of Jim’s neck and holds him tighter, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Leonard's alarm wakes him the next morning, he's alone in the bed. It doesn't quite hurt, but it does sting a little, even though he was more or less expecting it. He can't help but long for the previous morning, for Jim's fingers running through his hair in an unexpected moment of tenderness. He remembers the quiet contentment of it as he looks around the empty room – in Jim's absence, there's a coldness that has less to do with the chill in the air and more with missing the warmth of his smile, the way his lips slant and his eyes light up, crinkling just the slightest bit at the corners.

The house is quiet as Leonard makes his way to the shower, and then downstairs to the kitchen. On the counter, he finds a fresh stack of pancakes in a warming platter – on top is a piece of lined paper, torn from a small notepad, with a heart shape drawn on in thick black marker. He pockets it with a smile and starts gathering his breakfast together.

After he's done eating, Leonard settles himself in for a day much like the last. He spreads out on the couch with a thick blanket – the house's heating system is far from modern – and a PADD, a virtual pile of his favourite medical journals loaded and waiting for him to dig into. Despite the coffee he had with his breakfast, and the additional mug he's set on the nearby table, he finds himself dozing through a densely-written meta-analysis of cross-species responses to a new anesthesic; rather than mess up his sleep cycle with a nap, he decides to make himself an early lunch.

A sandwich and a few hours later find him back on the couch – back to his book this time, the prose flowing much smoother than what passes for writing among the galactic medical community. It pulls him in, and he doesn't realize just how deeply until he's pulled back out by Jim's voice.

“What do you think so far?”

Leonard doesn't jump, exactly, but he gets close enough to it that he's a little embarrassed. He presses his hand to his chest above his racing heart, and turns to look at Jim behind his left shoulder.

“Warn a guy, will you?” He rubs his chest, willing his heart to calm down, and Jim smiles, mumbling  _ sorry  _ as he kisses Leonard's temple. “I like it – a lot, actually,” Leonard says, raising the PADD slightly to indicate the book. “It reminds me of you.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?”

“It changes hourly.”

Jim smiles and makes his way around the front of the couch, and Leonard checks the clock on the wall for the time. He frowns slightly; it's just past two, which is unusual unless something's wrong. Jim seems pretty cheerful, but Leonard knows better than to judge Jim's mood by the surface.

“How's the garage coming along?” he asks. Jim flops down onto the couch – not directly beside Leonard, but not too far, either – and shrugs.

“It's coming. It's keeping me busy, I guess.” Jim says this mostly down to his hands, staring at them where he's resting them on his thighs and picking at his cuticles.

“Is everything okay, darlin’?” Leonard asks, giving into the ever-present, consuming need to take care of the man beside him.

Jim's smile twists slightly. “Yeah. I mean- I'm fine, I guess, it's just...” He sighs. “I'm really sorry, Bones.”

Leonard's in the middle of opening his mouth to ask  _ what for _ when Jim barrels on ahead, still staring down at his hands as he speaks. “I know I can get a little... weird, when we're here, and I know I've been worse than usual lately, and you don't deserve having to put up with that,” he says, and before Leonard can respond to  _ that,  _ Jim's talking again. “It isn't fair to you, to leave you alone in the house all day, and then barely say two words to you for the five seconds I  _ am _ around for, and just...” He sighs again, and looks up to meet Leonard's eyes. “I'm sorry.”

Leonard gives him a second in case there's anything else he wants to add – when Jim stays silent, Leonard gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile and speaks.

“First off, you've got nothing to be sorry for.” Jim looks like he wants to protest that, so Leonard moves closer and covers Jim's hands with one of his own, a silent  _ let me say my piece _ . “I want you to think about why I come here with you – would you say it's because we're together and I don't like having the bed to myself?” Jim nods after a moment, haltingly, and Leonard continues. “While that's true, it isn't the reason. Jim, I come  _ because  _ it bothers you so much to be here; because I love you, and that means I've signed up for supporting you when you're having trouble staying steady on your own. No, it isn't easy to see you hurting and distant, but not because I need you around to entertain me – it's hard because all I want is for you to be happy, and I want to do everything I possibly can to make that happen.”

A moment passes, and then another, where all Jim does is stare at him, vaguely shocked. Leonard squeezes Jim's hands, and he's about to start talking again when suddenly those hands are in his hair and Jim's surging forwards, pulling Leonard into a hard, almost painful kiss.

It takes him a second to catch up, and he quickly returns the kiss when he does. It's more difficult than it should be, and he can't work out why Jim's lips are moving so much until he catches the sound of whispers,  _ don't deserve you  _ and  _ fuck _ and  _ Bones,  _ and he wants to tell Jim  _ ain't about deserving, but yeah, you do _ , but before he can, Jim quiets long enough to bring his tongue into the picture and every thought in Leonard's mind goes to static.

Somewhere in the back of his brain, where he's still partially capable of thinking, Leonard realizes that it should feel weird to be making out with Jim on his mother's couch, but it really doesn't – it just feels  _ right _ in the way that it always does to have his arms around Jim, to have him close like this. It's been years, but Leonard still marvels at getting to have Jim like this: all of his intensity, all of his focus. He starts laying back on the couch, pulling Jim on top of himself as he goes, but his head hits the armrest and his PADD has wedged itself into his back, potentially out of revenge for being forgotten.

He pulls away as gently as he can and smiles. “What do you say we move this elsewhere?” he asks, his voice unexpectedly rough. He can't say he really minds, not with how Jim's eyes darken.

“Works for me,” Jim says. He sits up somewhat gingerly, prompting Leonard to look down and see that Jim's already getting hard. He swallows. Suddenly, ‘elsewhere’ seems like a  _ fantastic  _ idea.

The trip upstairs and to Jim's bedroom is blessedly short. Once inside, Jim closes the door and they both start shedding their clothes, and by the time they reach the bed, they're both naked. Leonard usually enjoys taking his time with getting Jim's clothes off, revealing and loving his skin piece by piece, but he knows there's more than one way to take his time – and he can't say that he entirely minds when Jim makes it onto the bed first, reclining onto his elbows with his legs spread invitingly.

“Christ, you look good,” Leonard finds himself saying as he climbs onto the bed over Jim, who smiles.

“As long as looking's not all you do,” he murmurs, finishing just as Leonard kisses him once again.

Despite Jim's best efforts to speed things along along, Leonard is determined to go slowly, and so he does. He presses chaste kisses to Jim's lips, never holding any long enough for Jim to deepen, smiling when Jim makes a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. Resting his weight on his left arm, he brings his right hand to slide down Jim's skin until he can rest it on Jim's waist, rubbing circles into the soft skin with his thumb. Jim retaliates by wrapping his legs high around Leonard's own waist and pulling them together until their erections slide against each other. Leonard slides his hand down to wrap around Jim's hip and hold him down to the mattress.

“Hold your horses, we're getting there,” he says, kissing Jim again to forestall any argument. Jim huffs but eases his hips against Leonard's hand, leaving his legs where they are – a convincing argument in itself for Leonard to get a move on, to be sure, but Jim isn't the only one in their relationship too stubborn for his own good.

Leonard presses one last kiss to Jim's lips before trailing downwards, kissing Jim's skin as he goes, pausing at a spot on Jim's neck right above where it meets his shoulder. He's content to stay there a moment, so close that his breath washes over Jim's skin with every exhale, waiting as Jim slowly tenses underneath him. When Jim finally whispers  _ Bones _ , sounding almost strangled, Leonard finally closes the distance. He relishes the way Jim sighs and relaxes, just from Leonard's lips against his skin – when he slowly starts to suck, intending on leaving a mark, Jim moans quietly and tangles his fingers in Leonard's hair, holding him in place.

When he's happy with his work, he lifts away to admire it. Still shining slightly, it stands out against Jim's skin, especially as it continues to deepen in colour. He glances up to meet Jim's eyes, and he feels his patience weakening the moment he does – with his eyes half-lidded, his lips slightly parted, and a flush spreading in his cheeks, Jim looks like the very image of desire, and Leonard finds himself weak to his pull.

Leonard's plans for worshipping Jim's body are tossed aside as he shifts upwards and once again meets Jim's lips in a kiss. Rather than pulling away too soon again, he presses closer, and Jim makes a small sound of satisfaction. They don't return to the fervour from the couch, but Leonard loosens his hold on Jim's hip enough that he can rock upwards slowly, sighing into Leonard's mouth when he manages to slide their cocks together.

Jim's sighs and soft moans form the basis of Leonard's motivation as he adjusts his position so that they can continue to grind against each other uninterrupted. Jim keeps their bodies close with one hand still in Leonard's hair and the other between his shoulder blades, and sweat begins to build between them, removing some of the friction. For a while, Leonard is content to chase Jim's moans, groaning himself when he hangs his head and looks between them, marveling at the sight they make.

“Bones,” Jim gasps, the hand in Leonard's hair clutching tighter. “Bones, I want, need you inside me.”

Leonard moans and drops his head; he lands with his mouth next to Jim's ear, and from there he can smell Jim's hair. He breathes deeply, taking in the smells of the outdoors, of stale motor oil and of Jim, his shampoo familiar beneath it all.

He steadies Jim with the hand on his hip. “Okay, darlin’, just- give me a moment here,” he says, fighting his body from resuming the slick back-and-forth that was so  _ easy _ and felt so  _ good  _ – he tries to focus instead on pressing little kisses to the side of Jim's neck and up under his ear, pulling more sighs from him.

It's easy to fall into a pattern there, with Jim's soft skin under his lips and Jim breathing in Leonard's own ear, close enough to give away the little hitches and variations that mean he's onto something in one spot, or when it's time to move on from another. His concentration is eventually broken by a soft, whispered  _ please _ from Jim, and with one final kiss to Jim's earlobe, he lifts himself up and reaches over to the nightstand where he grabs the lube.

Leonard slicks his fingers and positions them just outside of Jim's entrance. “Look at me,” he murmurs, waiting until Jim makes eye contact to slowly circle him with one finger before easing it in.

Jim's response is immediate and breathtaking – taking his lower lip between his teeth, he groans, his eyes sliding shut as he presses back against Leonard's finger. His hands settle on Leonard's shoulders as he moans his name, shaping ‘Bones’ with his lips as the sound trails into a groan in his throat. Jim clenches around his finger and Leonard feels like the air's been sucked from his chest, sliding it deeper in response and leaning forward to kiss Jim's throat as he moans again, feeling the vibrations against his lips.

It isn't long before he's comfortable joining his finger with a second, and then a third. Leonard can't stop whispering to Jim,  _ that's it _ and  _ so good  _ and more, on and on as he gently, carefully, fucks Jim with his fingers, stretching him open and pulling an endless series of noises from his chest.

Jim starts begging around the time Leonard considers him ready, carefully pulling his fingers out and kissing Jim softly when he whines. Leonard grabs the lube and fumbles with the cap, tossing it to the floor when he gets enough out for his cock. He grits his teeth as he coats himself, trying not to find pleasure in it, feeling dangerously close to coming as it is.

“Ready?” he murmurs, lining himself up with Jim's entrance.

“God, Bones,  _ please- _ ”

“Okay, baby, okay.” He kisses Jim's chin, a result of poor aim, but he can't find it within himself to care because he's inside Jim, pushing past the slight resistance of the initial breach and sliding in and in and  _ in _ , a groan tearing from his throat as he bottoms out in one smooth motion.

Jim moans loudly, his legs and hands tightening their grips on Leonard's waist and shoulders, his hips pushing back against him, silently begging him to move. He waits a moment longer, then pulls his hips back and slides forward again, making Jim moan and his own self control unravel into nothing.

From there it's all sight and sound and sensation – Jim's mouth hanging open around a gasp, Jim's broken moans every time Leonard thrusts in, Jim hot and tight and slick around him, every detail building into something so perfect that Leonard wishes he could lose himself to it forever. He could spend eternity inside Jim like this, his cock surrounded by Jim as Leonard surrounds him with his body, each other's moans and the sounds of their bodies moving together filling the silence of the room. It's familiar and beloved, being able to bring Jim this pleasure, sharing and revelling in it.

Leonard wraps his hand around Jim's dick and Jim bucks underneath him, moaning and digging his fingers deeper into Leonard's shoulders. He speeds his pace, angling their hips just right so that he hits Jim's prostate on every thrust. Jim gets even louder underneath him, unselfconciously begging for more, harder, faster – and Leonard can only comply, keeping his hand and his hips at the same pace, dragging Jim along to orgasm.

Jim comes quickly, moaning and shuddering his way through it, spilling up both of their stomachs and chests. Leonard pauses, despite his dick screaming at him to keep going; he leans down carefully and kisses Jim, waiting for him to kiss back before pulling away.

“You good?” he asks, and Jim's smile lights up the room.

“Better than – now c'mon and fuck me,” Jim murmurs, punctuating his words by clenching around Leonard's cock, drawing a groan from him and an involuntary thrust forward.

Leonard leaves the frantic pace behind – he wants to last a while, especially when Jim's gone soft and loving beneath him, running his hands up and down Leonard's back and kissing his face, encouraging him with answering thrusts of his own and quiet endearments. He presses his face into Jim's neck, taking in the smells of sweat and sex and Jim, his Jim, the man he loves, the man he'd give the galaxy to on a platter if he could.

Jim whispers “Love me, Bones,” and Leonard crashes into his orgasm, barely registering the broken moans he hears as his own as he comes with Jim's voice in his ear, Jim's arms and legs wrapped around him and his cock buried deep inside Jim's body.

He doesn't know how long it is before he comes back to himself, lifting himself up and pulling out of Jim carefully before collapsing down onto his side. Jim immediately curls forward against his chest and Leonard wraps his arms around him, holding him close and kissing his hair.

“Thank you,” Jim whispers. Leonard wants to say  _ of course  _ or even  _ there's nothing to thank me for _ , but some things, he knows, are better left unsaid.

 

* * *

 

The third night, they settle back into bed after sharing a shower and cuddling on the couch in front of a movie with dinner. Jim cuddles close, with his face tucked into Leonard's neck – he keeps pressing light kisses to Leonard's skin, making him squirm when he hits a ticklish spot.

“Feeling better? About everything,” he says, spreading one of his hands wide on Jim's back.

“A little.” Jim pulls back to look up at him. His smile is tired, but it's sincere, and considering everything, it's the best Leonard could hope for.

Jim resettles back with his face in Leonard's neck, sighing as he gets comfortable again. Leonard starts rubbing his hand up and down Jim's back, quietly loving the feeling of the ridges of his spine underneath his skin. All these pieces that keep him together – that hold him in one piece when he's beyond the reach of Leonard's hands.

“Hey,” he mumbles, waiting for Jim to grunt to continue. “It's okay to have a hard time coming home.”

Jim kisses Leonard's neck, once, twice, then pulls back again and shifts up, kissing Leonard on the lips. It's soft and chaste, and Leonard almost forgets what conversation they're having by the time Jim pulls away.

“I know, ” he murmurs, smiling. “Besides, this is where I come from, but... This,” he says, resting his hand on Leonard's chest above his heart, “is my home.”

Leonard kisses him again, falling into the softness of Jim's lips, the responsiveness as they move together. It ends slowly, gradually; naturally, almost, and before he knows it he's looking Jim in the eyes again, feeling breathtaken at the deep, shining blue he sees there.

“I guess we're just a couple of country boys who managed to find each other in the stars, huh?” he murmurs, and Jim's laugh is happy and bright.

“I don't think we'd taken off yet, actually.”

“You know what I mean,” he says, his smile overtaking his face as he nudges Jim with his nose.

When Jim ducks and kisses his shoulder, Leonard knows he's saying  _ yeah, I do _ .

 

* * *

 

The third morning, Leonard wakes with Jim still soundly asleep in his arms, and he drifts off again thinking that no matter where they are in the universe, as long as they're at each other's sides, they're home.

**Author's Note:**

> I've also never been to Iowa, but I'm reasonably confident in my portrayal.
> 
> As usual, come say hi on [tumblr](http://thingbe.tumblr.com) \- this is your best bet if you have any questions, and I completely welcome them! :) Thanks for reading!


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